


A Rational Predicament

by Verabird



Category: Les Misérables (Dallas 2014), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Gags, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Self-Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 07:14:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7791883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verabird/pseuds/Verabird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If any Javert was going to handcuff themselves to the bed and lie in wait for Valjean it would be Wattsvert. </p><p>Except Valjean calls to say he'll be home much later and Javert can't answer because he's only gone and gagged himself. </p><p>But that's okay because the keys are within reach and...oh whoops they've fallen on the floor. </p><p>But that's okay, he'll just reach for his phone and...no wait that's on the floor now too. </p><p>Not even siri can help him now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rational Predicament

Javert was a rational man, consistently sensible, never acting rashly except on a very rare occasion. Which was why he beheld the handcuffs in his hand with some confusion. The connecting links were small between the chain, making it a short distance between the wrists, for these were handcuffs he had taken from an unassuming black box that was tucked beneath his bed and not standard police issue.

Their bed, not just his. A double bed with an ornate metal bed frame that curled like vines and was varnished with smooth white paint. He shared it with Valjean, and the room had always been of his design, bright whites and open spaces, a row of small cacti on the windowsill, unobtrusively modern and yet timeless. Javert often felt as if his very presence sullied this space of purity, especially when he contemplated the contents of that black box.

He stared down at it now, chains on top of silken blindfolds and various gags, they had mostly been his own purchases, yet Valjean indulged him. Valjean’s pleasure was always on Javert’s mind, and Valjean took pleasure in using the contents of this box on Javert. At least it always appeared that he did, and Javert’s paranoia was such that he was never certain if Valjean was simply humouring him.

With this conundrum in place in Javert’s mind, he took a further three pairs of handcuffs from the box - Javert considered the possession of multiple pairs of handcuffs to be invaluable - along with two wide strips of black silk. He was already devoid of clothes, having taken a shower on his return from work and then simply neglected to put any back on. There was no harm in it, Javert told himself, Valjean would be home within fifteen minutes and he was rarely late. If Valjean beheld the sight of Javert in his precarious position and thought it ridiculous then Javert was sure he could bare the embarrassment as Valjean carefully untied him. Valjean would no doubt be gentle and courteous and then there would be lengthy discussions, but Javert wouldn’t mind, and there was always the chance that Valjean would be pleased with what he saw, and that was the crux of Javert’s wager.

He climbed onto the sheets and positioned his ankles by the lower bedstead. He contemplated the various angles in which he could chain his feet, then settled on cuffing each to the furthest bar so they were appropriately spread. He clicked them reasonably tight and tested the give.

The cuffs weren’t as heavy duty as the ones that rested on his belt at work, but they didn’t come cheap, they were sturdy and wouldn’t budge without the aid of the key. This key was carefully placed within reach on the bedside table should something go wrong. Javert had seen the headline ‘Sex Game Gone Wrong’ on the top of many articles and reports, even being called to the scene of some particularly brutal accidents, and while he enjoyed pushing himself he didn’t want the press to add the prefix ‘ Cop Dies In…’ to that headline.

He lay back, feeling suddenly vulnerable as his legs spread of their own accord. Even before he’d fastened his wrists he could feel the rush of excitement that restraint brought him. He wanted to touch himself, and he was hard enough already, but he didn’t want to waste it. The waiting would make Valjean’s appearance on the scene all the more sweet.

He took a pillow to place under his lower back, instantly raising his hips and feeling the stretch of the cuffs at his ankles even more. Then he took hold of one of the silken strips and passed it between his lips, slipping it behind his teeth and tying it in a tight knot at the back of his neck. He could still speak relatively well around the gag in his mouth, but the symbolism of it sent a further twitch of pleasure through his cock and down his thighs. He shivered, noting the time on the clock, knowing that release of one kind would come soon.

He checked to see his phone on the bedside table and the keys beside it, then he picked up the other cloth, letting it slide across his palm for a few brief moments. The material was thin enough that he could see the vague passing of light across his eyes, so he wound the blindfold round twice and then secured it with a neat knot.

He blindly felt for the handcuffs, an action he had perfected after working many night arrests, and clicked one wrist to the intricate metal headboard. The other closed around his other wrist and he held it up to the opposite post, pausing for just a moment, before clicking it shut with a damnable sound of metal.

He let out a deep breath through his nose and relaxed. Already he was aroused, the tight spread-eagled position sending sparks of pleasure through his body every time he pulled on the metal, the pillow beneath his back tilting his hips up into an arch that he hoped looked just as exciting as it felt.

He could bare this pleasure without touch until Valjean came home in less than a quarter of an hour. His erection was barely aching and he could stave off the need with deep breaths through his nose and clenched fists. Now that he was in the predicament itself Javert was certain it would be worth it.

His head had rolled back into the pillow and his eyes closed beneath the blindfold when suddenly he was roused from his momentary meditation by the piercing ring of his mobile. It was always set at the highest volume, something Valjean had insisted on, because apparently he was often distracted and let his phone run to voicemail one too many times. Javert could never fully understand why Valjean would possibly be so worried about him, but he allowed Valjean to manage this aspect of his life.

Instinct told him to reach out and answer the phone, but after straining for a few moments he decided that letting it run to voicemail would be fine. The wet silk on his tongue reminded him that he wouldn’t exactly be able to talk to whoever was on the other end.

After several rings the piercing sound stopped and the voicemail was activated. The voice on the other end was small, not amplified by loud speaker, but still audible enough that Javert could hear it if he strained in the silent room.

“ _ Javert? There’s been an accident on the 40, don’t worry I’m fine, but the traffic is crazy so I thought I’d stay here a bit longer before heading home. Dinner will probably be later than usual just to let you know. Love you! Bye!” _

 

_ Shit. _

Javert felt a mixture of disappointment, embarrassment, and terror wash over him as his stomach descended. His teeth had clenched around the material in his mouth and he was now clenching his fists again.

At first he reasoned with himself. Valjean was only fifteen minutes away, working on his humanitarian efforts with various counsellors and public figures, he would wait a few minutes then head off home, not a big delay at all. He held his own in meetings despite his status as a pardoned criminal and often worked overtime. Javert was proud of him, but right now Javert wanted nothing less than Valjean to abandon his post in the city straight away and come find him tied up and naked on his bed.

Then he realised the impracticalities of simply waiting. No, he would unlock himself, call Valjean back and get a new estimated time of arrival, then cuff himself back into place when in time for the new homecoming.

Javert gritted his teeth and slid the cuff to the edge of the bedpost then strained his fingers towards the bedside table, feeling around for the key. His fingers brushed the phone, then he felt the keys beneath his fingertips. He slid them towards him, drawing them to the edge of the table so he could lift them, and then with a sudden overzealous swipe he felt them shoot out of his grasp, skirting off the table and landing on the floor with a small clink.

_ Shit. _

_ Again. _

Javert took a deep breath, calming the storm that threatened his insides and began to rationalise again. Valjean would be back soon, later than expected, but still soon. Maybe this was beneficial, it would leave him wanting all the more and Valjean would be starved of affection on his return after a long day away from Javert. Yes, Javert thought, that sounded about right.

He relaxed again and waited. His cock was still hard and a familiar ache had begun to pulsate through it. The strain on his inner thighs was becoming noticeable and he could feel a tingling sensation throughout his wrists and ankles. In complete darkness with no sense of time he tried counting. This helped him pass by five minutes, but after this his mind started playing tricks on him, numbers slipping past each other and repeating themselves. He cursed inwardly and tried to focus on anything other than his dripping erection that was full of heat and need. A hard task.

The peel of his phone roused him again and he waited for the ringing to finish.

“ _ Me again, sorry, it’s going to be much later. I should be back in an hour or so. I can heat something up for dinner don’t worry about waiting.” _

Javert audibly cursed this time and reached across to find his phone. His hand glanced the surface and this time he kept his grip firm. Yet, once it was in his hand it was hard to manouvre, with his wrist at an angle he could just press his thumb to the screen, but damn iphones he had no clue what he was pressing.

Then a new idea occurred to him. He could hold down the centre button and scream for Siri to help him. Pleased with his solution he waited for the beep then took a breath, then paused, for the cloth in his mouth was thick and prevented clear speech. He considered trying anyway, but that was beneath his dignity. If he began yelling down the phone at Valjean with muffled words it would not leave a helpful impression.

He twisted his wrist so he could place his phone back on the table, let the side rest against the surface then let go. He could sense it tip, knowing in a split-second that he had misjudged the distance of the table, and then the phone landed with a thump on the floor.

Javert let out a frustrated moan as he realised just how helpless and vulnerable he was now. The situation was alarmingly out of his control, and this thought both filled him with fear and arousal.

An hour. Surely he could last an hour. He had endured greater struggles from worse hands. This he had brought about himself, and Javert believed wholeheartedly that he deserved this aching torment.

He went back to counting. It passed some time, but not nearly enough. He attempted to squeeze his thighs together to soften some of the ache, but his ankles were spread so far apart that such an action was practically impossible. So he settled for groaning behind the gag and tilting his hips up.

He was certain more than an hour had gone by, days even, a month at least, his cock was throbbing with a desperate need. Every time he pulled on the cuffs he was reminded of the tight restraint and that only served to rile him up more. His body was flushed with heat and sweat, his shoulders trembled with strain, and there was still no sign of Valjean. The desperation would surely drive him to insanity long before the man arrived home.

The sound of keys in a lock and a door swinging open had never been more sweet to Javert’s ears. At first he thought he’d imagined it, but then Valjean’s gentle voice called through the house like a pure bird song at dawn.

“I’m home! It wasn’t an hour after all.”

Not even an hour! He had been writhing in desperation on this bed for what seemed like days, and yet it was less than an hour. Javert reevaluated his endurance, he was weaker in this department than he had first assumed.

“Javert? Are you home?”

Javert wanted to call out to him, but his last scrap of dignity prevented it. His throat was dry and any sound would be muffled and hoarse. Valjean would have to find him as he originally intended.

“I brought some friends from work I want to introduce you to.”

_ Shit. _

_ For the thousandth time that evening. _

Well he would stay silent for certain now. Yet this would mean more waiting, more agony, his cock weeped as much as he himself wanted to. He heard Valjean’s voice again, quieter and conversational.

“He must still be at the station, he overworks himself. It worries me.”   


“Monsieur Valjean, you both astound us with your unwillingness to retire.” This second voice was deep and unfamiliar. Javert tensed at the sound, knowing that any guest wouldn’t immediately seek out the bedroom, but fearing for discovery just the same.

“I don’t think he ever could retire, and in any case, to me he does not age. Do excuse me gentlemen, I’ll just check upstairs.”

Javert tensed further. He could feel his muscles straining in panic, his cock was sore beyond belief, and soon Valjean would discover him in such humiliating vulnerability. The hinges were well-oiled and so the door opened smoothly. Javert could see only blackness and could hear only silence.

“Oh dear.”

Javert let out a pained whimper and swallowed hard. The boards creaked as Valjean stepped towards him and Javert winced as he felt the sudden touch of a palm against his cheek. Valjean’s skin was rough, but the touch was gentle. His fingers moved from Javert’s cheek to the back of his neck where he worked at the knot until it was loose and he could pull the gag away.

Javert coughed as the material slipped from his lips and instantly let a torrent of words fall.

“I am sorry, you must think me ridiculous. I am an embarrassment, I have shamed you in front of your friends, what on earth must you think of me, I--”

“Shhhh, calm yourself.” Valjean’s fingers were pressed to his lips, his other palm coming up to his cheek. It cradled his face with such tenderness that Javert whimpered once more. “What did you do this for?”

“I--...I thought it would be...I assumed I--...oh, Valjean, forgive me, I’m afraid I do not know. The key to the cuffs is on the floor. It fell as I tried to reach it.” He sounded apologetic.

Javert was aware that Valjean had not moved to undo the blindfold, nor did he shift to pick up the keys. Instead he continued to cradle Javert’s face and stroke his thumb across a cheek.

“I must get rid of my guests.” Valjean removed the touch and Javert leaned into the loss as much as he could. “Don’t move.”

Javert could hear the smile in his voice. Valjean wasn’t angry at him, and that was enough. He could bare the shame now. Javert waited as Valjean headed back downstairs and made excuses, feigning sudden illness, but easily charming his guests into leaving. Then his footsteps padded on the stairs once more.

“Perhaps I should have invited them up,” Valjean said, his tone teasing. “You are quite a sight.”

“Please do not mock me.”

“I’m not.”

Javert sensed the bed depress as Valjean sat beside his waist, and then he felt a hand on his thigh. It curved towards the inside and the sensitive skin there, then travelled to the base of Javert’s cock and briefly brushed fingers against the base. Javert allowed himself a sharp intake of breath then bit his lip.

“It is a pleasant sight indeed.” Valjean’s fingers dipped between his thighs again and brushed lightly against his balls. Javert was full of so much pent up frustration that the simplest touch sent waves of anguished pleasure coursing through his body. “How long have you been like this?”

“An hour,” Javert breathed.

“Well then.” Valjean’s fingers ran up and down Javert’s thighs, avoiding the aching erection with pointed dexterity. “You will be wanting some release.”

Javert whined, his voice high and desperate. He no longer felt shame in this precarious position. Now that Valjean was so close to him, his hands warm along his thighs, he felt safe once more and became focused on his goal.

“Would you beg for it?”

“Please, Valjean I am desperate I-...dear God please.”

Valjean withdrew his touch altogether at the words and Javert practically screamed with frustration. He tilted his hips, trying to find where the hand had disappeared to, but the bed was shifting and he could sense that Valjean had stood.

“Valjean! Please!”

“You have been so patient, surely you can be patient for a little while longer.”

“No!” Javert moaned, loudly, frenzied. He bucked his hips frantically and pulled at the cuffs, but Valjean did not return the touch. He was certain there were tears beneath the blindfold now.

Valjean was silent for a moment, and then just as suddenly as the hand had left it was back, wrapped around his cock in a loose fist. Javert thrust into it as best he could, but the palm was too loose and there was not enough friction. He whined in frustration.

Valjean took his hand away again, and then Javert heard the sounds of rustling material and the clank of a belt buckle as it hit the floor.

“Such a nice present you’ve left for me,” Valjean murmured, his voice low and appreciative. “I would have rushed home had I known, but waiting does make it sweeter.”

“I have waited long enough.” Javert panted between the words, his body searched for the touch. The bed shifted beside him and he sensed Valjean climb on top of the covers, his knees resting on either side of his chest, just under his arms. The naked skin of Valjean’s thighs brushed against the straining muscles of Javert’s torso as Valjean sat back and pinned him in place.

A hand was placed against Javert’s cheek, stroking delicately, a thumb drawing down on his bottom lip, and Javert allowed himself to be manipulated. He let his mouth open, and his jaw went slack as he felt Valjean lightly brush his own cock against his lips.

“I will touch you once you have helped me,” Valjean said, holding back despite Javert’s warm breath scattering over his cock in pleasurable waves. “Does that sound fair?”

“God yes,” Javert breathed, tilting his neck forward and blindly searching for the cock in front of him. Valjean held the base of his cock and guided it into Javert’s willing mouth, thrusting in up to where his fist was grasped. Javert moaned loudly, sucking desperately, gravity pulling Valjean’s cock deeper into his mouth and he was grateful for it.

Valjean’s skin was hot against his own skin and he felt warmly trapped, enclosed in a pleasant cage of Valjean’s smooth thighs. His face flushed, the cock occupied his mouth, and with everything so intensely focused around his upper body he almost forgot the anguish of his own cock.

This didn’t stop him sucking and swallowing in earnest so that Valjean would be brought to completion as soon as possible. Javert’s usual motions were enacted with vigour and soon Valjean was coming hot and satisfied down Javert’s throat. Javert tilted his neck so that he could swallow better and kept Valjean’s cock hot and wet in his mouth for as long as he could before Valjean slipped out of him.

Javert coughed and cleared his throat, licking his lips several times in the process. “Jean,” He murmured, barely managing the single syllable. “Help me.”

Valjean’s hand clasped around Javert’s cock and Javert was finally granted satisfaction. Javert was so aching, so desperate, his cock throbbing with long overdue heat, that it barely took a few thrusts of Valjean’s hand to bring him to completion. He came in a sticky mess across the sheets, his spread thighs tensing as he rode out his awaited orgasm in complete bliss. “Thank you,” He breathed.

“You see now why I had to hold you off?” Valjean said, his own voice tinged with heat and lust. “You would have ended this beautiful moment far too soon.” Javert mumbled something inaudible in return, his eyes closing behind the blindfold. He heard Valjean retrieve the keys and unlock his ankle cuffs. Then the gentle hands were back at his face, untying the knot of the blindfold and pulling the material away.

“Careful, don’t open your eyes too soon.”

Javert blinked slowly and beheld the slightly blurred visage of Valjean leaning over him. The last rays of sun drifted through the uncurtained window and lit the edges of his silhouette. It had been bright outside when Javert had first fastened the blindfold.

Valjean leaned down and pressed a kiss to Javert’s forehead, prolonging it as long as possible. “I don’t know what possessed you to do such a thing,” He said, running his fingers down the exerted muscles of Javert’s chest. “However, I am very grateful.”

“If it pleased you then I am also grateful.”

“It did.”

Javert smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. His fingers twitched and he raised his eyebrows at Valjean who was still looking down at him, his palm pressed to his chest. “My wrists?” He questioned.

Valjean smiled back and returned the comforting hand to Javert’s cheek, stroking softly. “Not just yet.”

Valjean pulled back the covers and allowed Javert to rearrange his stretched limbs, curling his legs up beneath himself. Then Valjean climbed in and pulled the sheets over them both before laying an arm across Javert’s chest and shifting until they were pressed close together. Javert could not turn with his wrists still cuffed above his head as they were, but he felt comfort in Valjean curled up next to him and pressed to his side, his limbs draped over his chest and holding him tight. “Valjean I-...thank you.”

Valjean pressed a further kiss to Javert’s cheek and gently shhh’ed him with a fingertip over his grateful lips.

 


End file.
